, 1887-03-18

Roxandra Smirnoff and, rising, he raised
1t to his lips. A kiss softer md sweeter
than incense he gave it, n then his eyes
fell upon the ungloved hand of the woman
he loved-her right hand
With a cry of terror-a cry like that
which comes from the throat of some
wounded wild beast-he sprang back and
flung her from him.
"What is it, Ivan, what is itsn Rox-
andra Smirnof and erect in the full
flare of the many candles.
"What is iti'' echoes the man. "Who
are your what are yonS Let me look at
You. let me look at your
He reaches forward and takes her head
roughly between his palms.
you Ivan catches ut her other
hand and drops it with a motion of horror.
"You are both of them!"
"What? whatS'
ooh, never mind-I-" hi wipes the
great drops from his face, and sits dow
on the sofa, burying his face out of sight.
"Oh, heavensl' cries she, nothing can
come between us now-whatw was ity-that
thought-again?'
"Yes,'' he replies simply.
''Tel me all about it, and that will
end it."
sswm itsr
Yes. You are fanciful, superstitious,
and |? ! am here-and''-
Yes. Very well"-
"Now tell mesi
''To be sure. My friend-he was muir
dered; he was an artist, n sculptor, and
they found him one morning s%trangled in
his studio; no enemies, no theft; nothing
but simply death. He had two models
yes" Roxandra Smirnoff pants as
she listens.
zone of them u tall lady who had ceased
coming n fortnight before his murder, the
other beautiful, young, who was seen
with him the day previous''--
"Ycsy" she breathes heavily.
"Well, that is all"
"That is alS"
Yes"
"And they never found outs'
They never found OUT
"Wel, what do you think of iii"
H WIS my friend"
"Ah-yes- Well, of course, the
young, beautiful woman murdered him
from jealousy of the tall woman-that is
plain"
you think sos'' The eyeballs of Ivan
Ansaldi, under his swollen lids, glittered
like those of n shot tiger.
"Oh, yes"
81 do not"
He rose.
'~'Rpxandra, L want to show you some
thing-it is the memento Of my dead
friend, which | told you was u bad omen
coming between my thoughts of you"
Eyes, show it me-" She places within
his her hand.
Ivan took 1t. With one stride he crossed
the room; he tore the mask cloth from the
faceless statue of Memory; he took the
two hands of Roxandra Smirnoff n
pushed them into the impressions they
had made in that clay four years before.
They fitted exactly.
She drew them away; she looked at
them-her two oddly different hands
she crouched and wavered, and sank, an
incoherent heap, at his feet.
For n time-some seconds seem like
eternities-there was no sound save the
tinkle of the clock, and then in the hush
there came the pitiful sound of a strong
mans sobs.
She crept over to him where he sat, her
long hair, tangled with displaced jewels,
trailing about her.
"Well, you love me, Iva Ansaldis'
Eyes, yes, yesin he answers stupidity.
$50 did he, until she came and stole
his heart from me; hat was it."
"Hushi"
Yes"
"What would give you happiness"
''To Del
"Well, yes-there, never mind; go home,
go home"
"But'-
Ivan Ansaldi raised his eyes for the first
time since she came into the room. They
were full of blood and looked at her.
"You do not want to go yet?''
"No.n
Every we'll"
He staggered across the room and out Of
the door, and down the three staircases
and out into the street and across it, and
looking at the shadow of Roxandra Smir-
noff at the candle lighted window of his
own home, ivan shot himself through the
heart.
The murder of Vladimir Dejnek was
avenged.-New York Mercury.